Sway Me
by Babymamhu
Summary: :IDW Transformers: Drift had never danced, and had never really seen anyone dance. He wasn't transfixed by Blurr's body, no - it was his face. Blurr was enjoying himself, and was completely alone in himself, simply moving, simply doing something he liked without care. Drift wanted that.
"Dance with me."

Drift frowned, those yellow optics passing over the holographic Go board, past the out-stretched servo, straight to Blurr's easy smile. The mech had gotten up for some energon, and now a static-laced tune was playing from a small, inconspicuous sound system that had apparently resided in the common room. Drift had no idea why it was there, why someone had felt it needed to be there, and why it hadn't been removed before this moment.

Drift shook his head. "I don't dance."

Blurr shrugged. "And I don't play Go. C'mon, Drift. Just one dance, and then we'll get back to the game. Humor me."

He grimaced. _That's what I'm afraid of doing._ "Blurr, really. I don't dance."

The mech shook his head, still smiling, servos raised as if in surrender. "Alright, alright, you don't have to dance with me. I'll just dance with myself."

Blurr turned on his heel, returning to the sound system and turning it up. A new song was playing now - an Earth song? - and the little radio was destroying what was once, probably, a decent piece of dance music. The rolling rhythm was slurred, the dip of the beat sounding like the slap of a wet rag hitting a pail. A bright trill of electronic sound was turned vague and vapid, the lilting vocals scratchy with static…

It was terrible, it was painful to hear, and Drift was rooted to the spot as Blurr began to sway with the flat beat. Drift had never danced, and had never really seen anyone dance. His life until now had been bleak at best, and any happiness or enjoyment that happened was unexpected and fleeting. Such simple luxuries were only additions to weakness… Pleasure, serenity, happiness - all enemies to the fangs of survival.

Blurr moved with ease, his body dipping and swaying to the sound as if he were a marionette, and the music became his invisible strings. Blue spaulders canted, following the sway of his hips, following the step of his pedes, following the rhythm that was sounding better and better to Drift's audials.

Perhaps the way Blurr danced was attractive, and perhaps not. Drift couldn't discern this, and yet he couldn't look away. He wasn't transfixed by Blurr's body, no - it was his face. Blurr was enjoying himself, and was completely alone in himself, simply moving, simply doing something he liked without care.

Drift wanted that. It was a pang of desperate hunger, the type of heavy, empty ache that came with hopelessness, a numbness in the acceptance that it would never be. He could never have that ease of solidarity in himself.

And then Blurr met Drift's stare. He beckoned, waving him over, inviting him to take part.

Drift took that invitation.

He stood there, incredibly awkward and still next to Blurr. Blurr smiled, and reached for Drift's servos, one of which had found its way to the reassuring handle of a sword. He allowed Blurr to take them, the easy sway stopping at the black servos. Blurr shook them a bit.

"Loosen up and let yourself move. Just follow the beat, like me."

Follow the beat. Right. Drift started small, imitating Blurr's sway, nodding his head almost imperceptibly to the rhythm, tapping his pede… it was like unraveling, in a warm, exciting kind of way. Blurr let go of him, moving away, laughing, and Drift smiled. He kept it up, mirroring Blurr, adding his own little mix of movements.

He probably looked stupid, dancing for the first time, in the ship's empty common room, the music loud and flat and staticky, with a mech he barely knew...

And Drift danced regardless.

Blurr whooped. "I knew you'd be good at this! You're great!"

"You're just trying to make me feel better."

Blurr winked, closing the space between them, and Drift tried not to draw back. Blurr talked low, like he was sharing a secret. "What's so wrong about that?"

It was flirting, Drift knew, but it struck deep.

 _You're just trying to make me feel better_.

 _What's so wrong about that?_

What was so wrong about that?

"Drift. Stop thinking, and _dance_."

He did. It was stuff he didn't want to think about, so he stopped. He moved, letting the rhythm flow through him, forgetting the quality of music, the quality of dance, allowing Blurr's servo to rest on his hip. They swayed slower now, synchronized, moving a little closer than before. Drift didn't think about it too much.

He was enjoying himself too much to care.


End file.
